The John Muir Trail

The Muir trail is 211 miles of the roughest part of the Sierras. It starts at the top of Mount Whitney, goes through Tuolumne, and ends up in Yosemite Valley. How you get up to the top of Whitney is up to you, but add at least another 11 miles. We would have a re-supply at Lake Thomas Edison. A hundred and forty miles and seven-twelve thousand foot passes later. At the time I didn't know any of the stats, but really didn't care, since it was far enough away and I had other stats on my mind just as intimidating.

April 1st was dedicated to getting our permit. Brad spent the day calling while I kept trying the fax line. Brad finally got through. We had our permit and I went back to other things. Well, some things just don't work out and my other trip fell through. Which left me only the JMT to think about, and now the reality was sinking in. I hadn't done any backpacking for some time, and a it was really long time since I had done a long trip. Getting everything ready seemed to be all new. The worries of forgetting something seemed real. We did seem to get everything together including the re-supply box to go to Vermillion Resort. Brad bought two bottles of champagne. With the other stuff the box was over fifty pounds! We wanted to overnight it so that we could call and make sure it got there. It was 80 dollars to ship, but who cares? We will deserve every drop of it when we get there!

Brad thought it would be a good idea to spend a day acclimatizing at Whitney Portal. I thought it would be a good day to drink beer and smoke cigars! A friend from work drove us up on the night of the thirtieth. They unpacked our backpacks and I unpacked the twelve pack of beer and the cigars.

It's always best to start a trip like this a little crazy since the whole idea is a little crazy. So I woke up, looked at Brad, and opened a beer. I would have to get out of my bag to light the cigar, can't have pinhole burns in the sack now can you? We spent the day fishing, practicing hanging the food, and dammed it if he didn't leave it to me to finish the twelve pack and the cigars. We knew that the next morning the adventure would start so we spent the afternoon being a little cocky. Somehow people knew that we weren't there just to top out on Whitney.

The next morning was an easy day, but it isn't part of the Muir trail now is it? We ate the biggest pancake for a dollar that I have every had at the portal grill. We were off and at the trail camp by 1pm to acclimate some more at 12,000 feet.

The next morning we where off and made the crest, left our pack at the intersection and jogged up to the top. Without the pack we moved pretty fast. One guy, who we passed, saw my iodine treated water bottle and how fast we were moving, and said ," look at them there drinking gasoline!" We didn't stay long at the top since we where ready to start our trip. Down the backside we went to Guitar Lake for our siesta. We had another seven miles to travel and travel we did.

There were many tough days on our trip, but the most uncertain for me was hobbling in to the campsites at Wallace creek.

I was scared just to look at my feet. Every footstep was a pain of accumulation like a water torture, just on the line of bearable. When I pulled off my boots it was as bad as I thought. My heels had blisters the size of quarters. Peeling away the socks from them and the blood epoxy was not any fun either. I told myself not to think of it. You do the best you can tonight and worry about tomorrow when it comes.

I spent the night doing the necessary stuff and giving my feet every chance to air out and dry up.

The next morning was full of self-doubt. My feet didn't feel that bad but I hadn't walked on them either. We started out and I spent the whole first five miles just concentrating on every footstep. Anything I could do I did to keep my feet from getting worse.

I did take the time to enjoy the Bighorn plateau. It really is beautiful. Everything is so wide open it's like standing in the biggest stadium. As if you're a gopher or something.

At Tyndall creek I would find out later that this would be one of Brads worst moments. By the time we reached Tyndall creek I knew that if I followed his pace my feet would worsen and I would not be able to make the miles that we had to make.

As he crossed the creek I stopped and thought about how I was going to tell him to go on and that I would catch up with him at the end of the day. He looked back and saw that I had stopped, he asked if I wanted to rest. I told him of my plans.

He didn't dig that at all, but I was not going to take no for an answer. I knew what I could do and what would happen if I didn't listen to my body. So he did take off alone - a big relief for me.

I took a half an hour, at least, just to cross the stream. He had crossed on rocks that were under water. I knew that with my feet in their condition that one wrong angle and I was in the drink. Wet shoes would be the end of me.

It took awhile, but I made it and was on my way. The next four miles is one of those long steady up hills that just wears on you. There's no switchbacks just straight up hill. Then it's time for the mother of all swithcback approaches, culminating into Forrester pass at 13,180 feet.

As I reached the area just before the first swicthback I saw a lone figure at the top. I knew it was Brad. I looked at him and yelled like a crazy person. He took my picture and told me later that it did make him feel better that he knew I wasn't going to quit.

I made it to Vidette meadow and Brad was very happy to see me. I was happy because my feet actually felt a little better than the night before. We also had an easy day tomorrow, only fourteen miles.

We woke up and did our usual morning routine and were off by eight. We made good time to Rae lakes and took our siesta there. Brad fished and was catching a lot of little trout. I washed my socks and aired out my feet.

We started off on what we thought would be an easy six miles. Now there was no reason for it not to be easy except for our expectations. The last part of that day seemed to drag on forever. So much for our easy day.

We talked about it and found that there where no easy days and that some days only have fewer troubles than others.

Woods creek was a really nice campsite and would be the last site that had a bearbox. We had heard that there were some really bad bear problems and that all means of hanging your food was next to useless. This did have us a little worried; we had come too far to have our trip ruined. We decided to take our time and find the best tree and if worse come to worse we'd fight to the end!

Of course this did not mean that we were not going to have a little fun with this either. As we hiked we discussed how the bears were getting the food and thinking that the bears must have mutated and grew opposable thumbs to open the bear boxes and that mother bears could now hold their cubs by the hands and swing them up to the hanging food.

Of course, having figured out that since this was the only logical way that these "superbears" could be getting so much food, we felt obligated to tell everyone we saw about these superbears!

Pinchot pass was one of the easiest passes we did. We stopped at the south fork of the Kern to rest. The sign said that it was only four miles to Mather pass. Could that be right? Two passes in a day! This was too easy. As we started off we found the trail to be perfect, in grade, steepness, and sandy so even our feet hurt less. As we entered lower basin we met a tie died, external frame packing, dead head. In passing I asked if there was water ahead. He said, "Dude, you're already packing too much water." Not what I asked, but just in case I see him at the next grateful dead concert I go to, I wave back a peace sign and nod my head.

We stayed in the basin that night. We camped above 11,500 feet and it was one of the best views that we had. We could see Pinchot pass on the horizon. It was really rewarding to think that we started on the other side of it just this morning.

Now I do not know what it was, I mean it could have been anything, but.... To the East of us, below split mountain was this red thing. I do not know what it was but could it be the lost ranger that everyone has been talking about? We did not know, but for the rest of trip that didn't stop us from telling everyone that we thought it was.

That's one thing about being on the JMT. It's like being in a small town that's three feet wide and two hundred and eleven mile long. Rumors start like a flash and seem to travel faster that you can walk. We made sure we did our part :-)

Started out early the next morning and it wasn't long before we were on the top of Mather pass. There were a father and daughter up there with their friend, taking a break. They where taking a month to do the trail. A little too long on the trail for me. We looked around for around five minutes and were on our way. It was really cool seeing the sun go down the Palisades.

We made it to Le Conte Canyon ranger station around 3:30p. We had finished around 15 miles, but it was time to put some gravy on the day. Two and a half miles would take us to Big Pete Meadows and the end of our day. When we got in high gear it was like we were one machine, just moving without saying a word. Even our breathing was in unison.

When we made our goal it was only then that we could really be happy. Setting up was no more than eating and hanging food. No energy was wasted on setting up a tent, just throw your pad on the most level area you can find, cook your food, and hang what's left. Sleep was bittersweet. It felt good, but you knew that you would sleep so hard that the next thing you would see would be the beginning of another hard day.

And the next day was a hard day! It was Muir pass and six miles away. We started and I noticed blood. At first I thought maybe something killed something and was dragging it down the path. It didn't stop and I knew it must be a mule. Once we were above tree line it seemed that the pass should be just around the next corner, but it would just be another canyon that would meander around another corner. We found a beer can on the trail. I couldn't believe it. It had to be the guy with the mule. No one would pack in a beer this far. What a slob. We finally made it and rested on the top.

I knew that it would be another eleven miles to McClure Meadows. And it would be an all bone jarring downhill! We started down hill and found the end of the blood trail. The mule was as dead as the windward side of a limberpine. The hoof was duct-taped and the supply boxes left there.

Further on we passed a CCC crew building trail. Whenever I complain about my job I think about this crew. Being above treeline they had little dirt to work with and so had to do most of the work with rock. They used prybars, picks, and 3 lb. Mallets to bust the rocks! I do not complain much at work anymore!

The first CCC girl we pass looked real good to us! She had her orange shirt unbuttoned from the bottom to her bra. Yikes! The second one had orange hair and more body piercing than I could count. I said to her that they really kicked ass on the trail, that it really looked good. And I could not believe the tools they were using.

She said that she was from Wisconsin and decided that she would try the CCC. She said she liked it. I told her that she rocked! We started down the trail and about a mile later said that he should have gotten our picture together. Since our hair was about the same length. I was bummed knowing that it would have made a good picture.

At Evolution Lake the downhill was taking its toll on me. I started to slow down from the pain. By the time I reached tree line Brad was gone and my pace was a snail's crawl. I had two more miles to go and I knew exactly how that mule felt. It hurt and I wondered how I was going to make it the rest of the way. Just get to Vermilion.

I did make it and by that time Brad had his stuff out and we were ready to eat. There were two other parties in the camping area. One was a woman around 60 and another group that seemed like this may have been their first true back pack.

The first thing Brad said when I put my pack down was that we had a know-it-all and that she was! She met me before I could sit down and let me know that she had been camping here for nineteen years and knew everything about the area. She said that there was no need to treat the water since she hadn't gotten sick once and that there was no need to hang our food either since there weren't any bears in the valley. She said she was going to make a campfire and that we should join the group. I thanked her but told her that I was very tired and wouldn't make it much past eating without passing out.

We picked out a tree and set-up our counter balance to hang our food. The woman shouted out, "You hoo, you really don't need to hang that food there aren't any bears in this valley." I mumbled back that I wanted to do it anyway since I needed the practice. Which wasn't true but we had come to far to get our food stolen by a bear. For that matter I treated my water also. I wasn't going to end this trip because of getting sick.

Brad offered me some M&Ms. I took a handful and started throwing them. First as far as I could then closer making a trail to the old lady's tent. He asked what I was doing. I told him that I was bringing in a bear. When it started shredding her tent I was going to jump up and get right over the bear's shoulder and start yelling for Brad to come and look at the biggest marmot I have ever seen. I mean it would have to be a marmot since we all know that there aren't any bears in THIS valley!

I fell asleep to the talk around the campfire. I went into a dream. I dreamed that I married Julie Kavner. Yes, that's right Julie Kavner, Rhoda's sister in the Mary Tyler-Moore Show and the voice of Marge Simpson. Most guys dream of Cindy Crawford or the like but I dream of Julie Kavner! I have to admit that it scares me.

The next morning we awoke to the old woman giving the yuppies a verbal tour of her valley. Who better than her, since she had been coming here for twenty-two years? Ya, I know what your saying, but that's what she said, in fact now that I think of it she seemed to give a different number every time.

She was talking to one of the yuppies and told her that she had been walking that morning and had found a shredded food sack and in fact there were bears in the valley! I looked at her from my bag and asked if she was sure maybe it was a marmot!

We started the morning in a really good mood. We knew that after today's seventeen miles that we would be at Vermillion in two days. Our goal was Sallie Keyes Lakes. From there it was only nineteen miles to Vermillion. We would have liked to do nineteen miles and cut out a day but it would have been impossible to make the 4:30 PM pick-up for the ferry.

We were leaving King's Canyon and entering Muir Wilderness. Our elevation was staying under 8,500 feet for the first in nine miles and it was HOT! By the time we started uphill we were ready to get to higher and cooler climes. We stopped and took a rest. While resting we saw a female hiker tackling the switchbacks that we had just done. You could tell that she was having a hard time of it, but she was making progress. Which in itself was amazing since it seemed that her backpack was as big as her.

She stopped to chat and she told us her name was Linda and that she lived in Mammoth Lakes in the summertime and Moab in the winter. She had entered at Onion Valley and was going to Mammoth. Cool. She went on but we passed her up not too long after ending our break.

All I can say about Sallie Keyes Lakes is that it is one of the best lakes I have seen. We camped on the northernmost end of the peninsula, right on the lake. I started cooking while Brad fished. Who should show up but Linda? Since she was here we might as well get pictures. I have to say she was a real trooper standing close to me on a trip like this. It would get you the purple heart in some countries!

Brad and I woke the next morning at our regular time and started off. In the morning I always start off very slow. This morning I took extra time up to the pass to enjoy all the flowers and the upper sun washed rock reaching to the beautiful blue sky above. This morning there was no hurry since we wouldn't make the fairy today. We passed Heart Lake then Selden Pass. We took pictures, etc.

We started down the other side and I was in the lead. I seemed to start quickening the pace. We were at 11,000 feet and Edison Lake is about 7,700. It's 19 miles, but all down hill. My legs and ankles would take a beating but I would have two whole days to rest. I quickened the pace even faster to the point of "rock skipping". I've done 20 miles this way a couple of times before doing Gorgonio to Angeles Oaks, but not after 120 miles!

I was taking every step at my max, but not more, since I knew that I had to keep my pace or not make it. I had to make sure we made it by 4:30. It would really suck to work this hard just to find that we would have to wait for the morning ferry. I tried not to think of how far or where we were, just my pace. We were moving and the landmarks are passing, Marie Lake, Rose Lake trailhead, Lake Italy trailhead, and it's still morning. Hey, maybe we will make it! We where breathing hard and sweating hard since it was getting to mid-day, but everything is pretty much in control and then the unexpected happened. To me anyway! Uphill!

I don't like to know everything that is on the trail. Brad loves to know every detail on the topo, but I just like to let it happen. Well, it did! I looked at the map now! A thousand feet of uphill in a mile. Usually 1000 feet isn't bad, but I was maxed and had my mind set for all downhill. I started off O.K. If I can make this mile it's only 4.6 to Mono Creek then 2 to the taxi. It's only 12:30 so we can still make it. I have to make this mile. I don't care if it's straight up -- its only a mile! Do it!

Well, I can say now that Einstein is right. All things are relative. When the packer, coming down with the mules, met me halfway up the hill I must have made a strange sight. Lying in the dirt, just off the trail, eating a Power Bar, swigging water, and panting like it was the 11th round. Brad was giving me encouragement like a boxer's manager.

We topped out then came about a mile of flat trail. We were not going to miss that taxi and didn't stop until we reached the final down hill. Now, it was only 3.5 miles to Mono. We ate Power Bars and rested. Now the trail was a lot like the last part to Angeles Oaks. I CAN MAKE IT!

At this point we knew that we would make it. The best thing to do is to keep the pace and just get it over with. The last half mile is like a flat swamp, full of mosquitoes, and of course all the deet has sweated off along time ago. So I wasn't going to slow down now! Ahhhhhh, finally at the creek!

Brad was around 15 minutes behind me. What time is it? -- 2:50. Cool. We both started to laugh while we lay on a big rock by the bridge. We could really rest now with plenty of time to make it!

After a while we got up and made the dock at 3:30. I think that they must have moved the dock closer to the trail because it didn't seem like two miles. After setting our packs down, I asked Brad for the Bronners. I jumped into the lake, came out, soaped up, rinsed off, then jumped in again. Other than my feet and lower legs it was the first time that I had touched water in eleven days!

The boat came. It felt good to know that we had a whole two days off. On the ride over I met a guy who said that he had came from Yosemite but was quitting. I asked him why. He said that his feet couldn't take it and showed me a blister on the back of his heel. I should him one on my heel that was bigger than his, then showed him the other heel that had an even bigger one!

At Vermillion we set our packs down and went into the store. This big cowboy with hat, belt buckle, and boots asked if there were any through hikers. Shorty, the boat driver, said that there where two. He introduced himself to us. He said that his name was Butch and that he owned the place. He told us that the first beer was on him and that all the tent cabins where booked up. If he couldn't get our free night tonight he has one for us tomorrow. I had a Newcastle and Brad got the Anchor Steam. I don't think a beer ever tasted better!

We sat down to eat. Brad and I looked over the menu and chose a double cheese burger. Boy, that was good. How about a grilled cheese? Mmmmm, ya. A piece of pie should finish us off! We started to pay and Butch said that we might as well get a tab going. He told us that a couple who had booked a cabin took one look at it, said it was too primitive for them and canceled! Yeeha! We got our re-supply and a six pack and went to the tent cabin.

Primitive? It looked like the Taj-Mahal to us! We opened the package and checked the champagne. Both bottles where fine. Brad went down to the store and put the bottle in the beer ice by the register. He told Peggy, Butch's wife, not to sell it!

We both took a snooze. Then went out to the campfire, met everyone, and passed around the champagne. After most of the group went to bed one of the locals said that there would be a poker game tonight. Brad was stoked. As we were walking to Tiny's trailer I could just see these locals taking Brad for all he's got. At the table were Tiny, the cook, Chris, the maintenance guy, and Keith, one of the packers. About an hour later I watched Keith win a hand. Brad, being in true Fireman form, was asking Keith if he knew him well enough to call him a fuck. I don't think Keith really got it and said no he didn't know him that well. The game went well after midnight and ended up with Chris being the loser to the tune of 40 bucks. Brad, took around 5 of it.

In the morning the waitress, Chris's girlfriend, popped into our tent and asked if we wanted to go swimming in the lake. We groggily declined. About an hour later, although it seemed about five minutes, Linda popped in. Cool, you decided to come and you made it!

We got up, ate breakfast, slept. Got up ate lunch, hung out, slept. When we got up in the afternoon Butch had the smokers cooking away. Brad and I got a six pack apiece and hung out with everyone around the smokers. After the six pack we were feeling really good! Butch told us to go in and get a free beer. He showed us the chicken and beef in the cookers and pulled out a big shank of meat and sliced us a big piece of it. With a grin he asked, "How is it." Man, that's good what is it? Antelope, from last year's hunt. Cool.

It seemed that there was too much food for the people there. I was wondering if he had overcooked. Just then the boat came in and I could see that Butch knew what he was doing after all. There where at least 55 people but it seemed that Butch really likes through hikers and really made us feel welcome. Usually it seems that, as a backpacker, we are tolerated but never catered to. It felt strange here at Vermillion.

We ate and it was excellent. After dinner Butch came by and said to try this drink. I tried it. Wow, what is that? Wild turkey and water. Funny, Butch, I can't taste the water. Its got ice cubes don't it? Ya, I guess so!

By now my head's spinning. I can’t even feel my feet. I felt good! Chris comes by and asks if Brad and I would like to go to the hot springs with him and his girlfriend. I say OK but can Linda go? Sure.

We head off in Chris's old Toyota Tercell. In the back seat we looked like a game of twister. I could just barely look over Linda's shoulder. The road to the hot springs is really hairy and I figured it was probably better the less I looked. We got to the trail to the hot springs.

We had our headlamps but I really can't remember how we got to the actual hot springs. I do remember that I went to the hips in a mud hole. I couldn't for the life of me get out. I yelled to Brad to help me out. He told me to give him the bottle of champagne first. No way, man. I'm not falling for that. So Brad and Linda helped me out. By the time I got out all three of us were cracking up.

There was already a group in the hot spring when we got there. The conversation was being dominated by this one guy. So we all got in and were listening to this guy. He kept talking about how he was raised in a commune and his parents wouldn't let him speak English, only French, bla, bla, bla. He became so pompous that Brad just couldn't resist. He started making fun of him until everyone was laughing, except the guy. He didn't know that he was being made fun of!. The guy said that as a kid his parents wouldn't let him read books like Dr. Suess, only the classics like Tolstoy. Well, having a few drinks on board and not listening too well I just had to speak up! Classics! Huh! If anything is a classic it would have to be Dr. Suess. Toy story is a new kid on the block! Well, I guess that was too much for him to take and he left alone.

Sunday we relaxed and hung out, talking to the people there. Last night Butch mentioned to Linda that he needed a waitress. Since she didn't have to be back to Mammoth for another week she took the job. It was weird having her as our waitress. By evening we had everything ready for tomorrow morning. Around the campfire I was very thankful for our time here but felt strong again and was ready to return to the trail.

We had our last breakfast at Vermillion. We said our good-byes to Linda and everyone and took the boat back to the trail. We made Silver pass by early afternoon. Brad didn't like the way the weather looked and wanted to get over the pass as soon as possible. When the rain and thunder came he really started to freak. He wanted to get down fast and was almost running. I really didn't think it was much to worry about but if he wanted to go faster I would catch up with him later.

I was looking at the signpost to Tully Hole when I heard a voice calling my name. I looked around but didn't see anyone. The voice called again louder. I looked back. In an opening, by a rock, in his bivy sack was Brad. I walked over and asked him what he was doing. He said he didn't think that it was safe to go on. I told him that these storms happen all the time in the summer and we were just as safe walking as sitting still, but he wouldn't have any of it. So we decided to wait out the storm.

By us were an older lady and her grandson. She said that they were waiting out the storm also and that they were doing the JMT leg from Yosemite to Vermillion. I thought that was really cool. By the time the rain and thunder stopped it was late afternoon and we decided to call it a day. We only did 12 miles that day. This was by far our easiest day.

The next day we woke to blue skies and cool temps. We hiked up to Lake Virginia and started down hill that would end at Red's Meadow for a total of 20 miles. It was easy to see that Brad wanted to make up the miles we didn't do yesterday and that we did. Since we never went above 10,500 feet the trail had very little rock and we could really motor. We entered Crater meadow and saw some of the best red cinder cones I have seen. To the north/east was Mammoth Mountain. For a minute I felt sad. Before everything past Whitney was new to me and seemed so far from the World, but now I knew where we were. I had driven my car, strapped on my skies, and rode man-made lifts to the top of that mountain with thousands of other people. For me the true adventure ended there. The rest of the hike would be to finish the goal.

After the cones I knew we only had two to three miles but at the end of a twenty mile day it only seemed like your half-way. Walking into Red's Meadow is like walking into Knott's Berry Farm. Stables, tourists, lots of busses and cars. We felt out of place just as any backpacker would feel in the middle of Knott's Berry Farm. I sat by the phone while Brad called his girlfriend. It really cracked me up that whenever he was even near a phone the first thing he had to do was call his girlfriend. I would never have thought of calling my girlfriend. At least not until I ate.

We each had a cheeseburger and grill cheese sandwich. Since we had restaurant food only two days ago it didn't taste as good.

We went to the campground. It reminded me of a KOA. They had one of those hot spring showers but the line was too long so I didn't use it.

The next morning we felt all right but neither was a bundle of energy. We started the uphill to Gladys Lake. I felt a little tight but thought that I would loosen up, I never did. We stopped at a bridge at around the ten mile mark. I could tell that Brad was as weak as me. We took a break. He didn't say it but I knew he was thinking that Thousand Island was still seven miles away and the way he felt it would take a lot of pain to get there. Of course we hadn't said anything about Thousand Island being our goal. By now we didn't have to. We could just tell what the other was thinking.

Right before Gladys was a small pass. It starts by climbing a side of a steep gully then over a hill then another gully some switch backs then another hill. By the third fake pass Brad went off, he was pissed! At what, it's hard to say, the trail maker, the map maker, God? I never know but it was cool to see since it's me who's usually the one getting pissed off.

We finally made Gladys Lake. Then at Rosalie Lake a family must have had mules pack them in, because it looked like a family reunion. With sun tents, inflatable canoes, and lawn chairs!. Then it was steep swithbacks down to Shadow lake. At Garnet Lake we rested. Garnet was interesting to me. It was a big lake with Banner Peak looming on the other side of the lake. It was mid-afternoon and the winds where racing down from the glacier. It made the area seem very inhospitable and lonely. I liked it. We had another 2.6 miles to Thousand Island Lake. Getting up was tough.

Hiking past Ruby and Emerald Lakes was very nice. They both have very steep sides so you don't know what's around the corner and then you are way above the lakes when you finally see them.

We finally made it to Thousand Island Lake. We camped right at the mouth of the lake in the area that they say you shouldn't. We where too tired to go on. We camped/slept on decomposing rock so that we wouldn't damage anything. It wasn't the most comfortable area but even though we weren't following the letter of the law we were going to follow the intent.

As we lay in our sleeping bags and I could see a jet streaking through the sky, back-lit by the setting sun. I thought how much different the lives of the people in that jet were to mine right now. I was happy to be where I was.

The next morning was a good day. Just up from our camp the trail rises and gives a beautiful view of the Lake and Banner Peak. We took pictures then moved on. Kept moving until we topped Donahue Pass. At the top we stopped for pictures. One foot in the Ansel Adam Wilderness, one in our last "wilderness" area, Yosemite!

On the way down we came on a mule train. I ask the packer where would be the best place to pass. He rudely grunted to me to just go around. So I did by jumping from one rock to the other. It really freaked out the mules. He started yelling at me. I yelled over my shoulder that I only did what he told me to do. Unfortunately, Brad was behind me and had to listen to the guy cussing.

The first nine miles went really fast. Since I had been through Lyell Canyon many times we were moving very fast. By the fifth mile in the canyon the packed mud was taking its toll. We stopped to rest. I could feel my feet pulsating. By the time we made it to Tuolumne I was hobbling. I just prayed that they had a tent cabin so we wouldn't have to walk another nine-tenths mile to the backpacker's camp. Unfortunately, they didn't have a tent. But fortunately, they did have a bus to the camp.

At the camp I got into my sleeping bag and watched some Boy Scouts do everything they could to demolish a concrete campsite post. Brad was walking around talking to people. He really is an animal. The last thing I wanted to do was to walk around. He even talked a guy who was starting a back pack tomorrow to trade us beer for the extra food that we didn't need. It was Pabst but it didn't taste that bad.

We ate breakfast then rode the bus back to the trail. We didn't want to cut any corners now and took off. This part of the trail got me slightly pissed. It meanders around through very bland areas of Tuolumne. Once we got to Cathedral trailhead I could tell it had a lot to do with me being weak. The three miles up to the lakes was the worst. I had never felt that weak so early in the morning. I was wondering if I was going to hit the wall and have to stop. Once we got to Columbia Finger the trail flattened out. I felt like I would be O.K.

We rested at Sunrise. We took a tour of the camp. I don't think that they really liked us being there but we looked around anyway. I ate everything I had except tomorrow's breakfast. We only had 15 miles to go! 5 today and 10 tomorrow! We made the five miles in good time.

While getting water, Brad saw the only bear on the trip. Since it was only mid-afternoon we spent a lot of time talking about the trip. All the apprehension about making it and how great it felt being our last day. Everything changed. The forest smelled better, the grass became greener, and the uncaring masses became our brothers.

Our last morning we ate fast. We wanted to start. We only had ten miles! We skipped down the trail for the first four or five miles until I caught my foot on a root and face planted in front of some overnighters. They laughed and Brad said something about if they had done 220 miles they wouldn't be so smug. I didn't care what anyone thought. We had pushed for our goal and we were almost finished.

Nothing I love more than going down the Falls trail while everyone else is going up knowing that I had come from somewhere far away. Before it's been from White Wolf through Tuolumne to the Valley or Tuolumne through Devil's Postpile to the Valley. To have come from Mt. Whitney was the best. We walked without touching the ground.

We stopped at the sign at the start of the falls trail. We had two girls take our picture as a small crowd gathered. I felt like one of the characters at Disneyland. We posed like Long and Bridwell at the base of El Cap. Then we were off. We had to finish. What you say? You are finished? Negative, you aren't finished until you make it to La Conte memorial. Damn, that Brad, he can not only out hill climb me but out powerwalk me too!

We made it! It was really over! Brad, gotten his trowel, went outside and dug up a note. What's up with that? Then he told me and the guy in charge of the memorial that when he and his girlfriend had been in the Valley in January that she had buried a note for him to read at the finish of the trip. Even I kind of was choked up but I got over it. The guy said we should come back tonight but I told him that we couldn't make it since it was the last day this week that the John Muir Show was playing. We said that we would be there tomorrow.

We went over to housekeeping, took showers, and changed to our fleece pants since that was the cleanest thing we had. Damn, we had lost weight! We dumped all the rest of our clothes in the washer. Looking good in our warm, clean, and sharp looking shorts and t-shirts went to get some beer and pizza. With a full stomach and a good beer buzz we went to the show. Taking our tickets was Tucker Tech. He was very aloof to say the least. He was after to be known by Brad as Tucker Fuck. Then it was off to the Mountain Room Bar. That was the end of us being attached at the hip.

Brad and I made a B-line to the bar. A pitcher apiece, him at the bar, and I to play scrabble with Tucker Fuck and his cronies.

One more day of rest and our ride was here to pick us up. We talked of starting a fire and throwing our packs into it. Now all I think of is taking that load back up to the place where the wild things are.

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